


This Aint Rome

by Velace



Series: Tumblr Stories [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-08 13:06:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15931052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velace/pseuds/Velace
Summary: Under the right circumstances and with the right two people, it only takes a day.Alternatively; Regina and Emma discover their feelings for one another, and neither are in the mood for that whole taking it slow bullshit.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is why I haven't updated anything in a month. It's finished though, and if you're mad at me for ending it where I do, I've promised the people of Tumblr an epilogue, which I've already decided will occur the day Henry returns. (He's currently away. I imagine some of you will be thrilled by this)
> 
> Also, Killian isn't a huge part of the story, but he's not entirely my Killian. He's a combination of mine and canon, so he comes off as a bit of a dick. It's meant in good fun, but as I've discovered, not everyone will enjoy it. On the bright side, Emma (whose love of food comes second only to Regina) and Regina (the crazy, snarky, hopeless pansexual) are 100% mine.

_Come here_.

Two words. Simple and to the point, on her phone, at 6 in the morning, beckoning her from her nice, warm bed and out into the ball chilling air of a Storybrooke Autumn day. Emma grumbles all the way to Regina’s house and wonders, not for the first time, as she pulls into the drive, why her response hadn’t been a strongly caps-locked _fuck off_ because while she might, secretly, love Regina beyond all reason, being woken up at 6am on her day off is so far over the line that she can’t even _see_ the line anymore.

Still. It has to be important for Regina to have sent those same two words more than once. She’d sent them repeatedly, actually, until the buzzing finally drove Emma mental and she’d rolled over and sent a return text telling Regina she would be right there, if only she’d _please_ _stop_ _for crying out loud_.

Turns out, Regina had started sending the text just after 5 and if it is important, then Emma can’t be too mad at her about it. Hell, she thinks, even if it’s not, she knows she probably won’t be mad anyway. Maybe it’ll be something trivial that Regina just happened to freak out about and in apology, she'll offer Emma a bed to sleep in until the afternoon, like she’d originally planned.

 _That would be nice_.

Exiting the car, Emma stuffs her hands in her coat pockets and wanders along the path to the front door, mounting the stairs, still grumbling as she knocks as loud as humanly possible. She may be whipped, but at least she can still be petty when she wants to be.

Regina answers fairly quick. Not with the glare Emma expects, but a raised brow that quite obviously asks _really?_  Emma smiles because- well; how can she not when she can hear the question in her head, asked in that snarky drawl that’s at least ten percent responsible for why she fell in love with the woman to begin with?

Answer; she _can’t_.

“Hi,” she offers a little more cheerily than she feels. “You…” She squints and tilts her head to the side. “I was going to say bellowed, but that doesn’t work with text. Do you think persisted can be used instead, or is my brain just suggesting gibberish to me?”

The brow rises higher. Impossible as it is, Emma has learned to never underestimate the power of Regina’s sass, in whatever form it chooses to take. “Is it ever not?”

She snorts. “Guess not,” she concedes, shrugging before she steps up and nudges Regina aside, ducking into the house where it’s warm. Homey. “So, where’s the fire?”

She has a small flash- the briefest of flashes, of Regina offering up the same kind of inappropriate answer that she would in response, and snorts again. Regina eyes her curiously as she takes her coat. “What?”

She waves dismissively and says, “Ignore me.”

“All the times I’ve tried, and _now_ is when you choose to encourage me?”

“Har har,” she deadpans, earning a grin that causes a flutter in her stomach. She dismisses it, as much as she can. “Seriously, why am I here?”

For the first time since she answered the door, Regina seems to falter. Emma just stares and waits, semi-patiently. She’s tired and so not in the mood for stalling, but she’s kind of made a habit out of making concessions for Regina and tired or not, it doesn’t appear she’s any more capable of not doing that than usual.

“I… baked.”

She blinks. Slowly and, if at all possibly, exasperatedly. Her voice is surprisingly calm when she says, “You called me here... because you baked?”

Regina nods. “I baked a lot.”

“O… kay?”

“For you,” she adds, as if that’ll clear up any of the confusion.

It doesn’t.

“Um.”

“I had a dream,” she continues, looking a little lost as she speaks. “Then I woke up with this sudden urge...”

“To bake,” Emma repeats just to clarify.

“Yes.”

“For me.”

“Yes.”

“Right. Well.” If that isn’t fucking insane, she doesn’t know what is.

“Where are you going?”

She doesn’t want to answer, mostly because she doesn’t think Regina _deserves_ an answer after this, but the slight panic in her tone stops Emma in her tracks and she sighs, turning around. “I am going back to bed.”

Regina frowns, glancing from her to the stairs and back again. “Upstairs?”

“You’re lucky I didn’t drive through the side of your house with how ridiculously early it is,” Emma counters as she turns back to the stairs and starts to climb. “I’m taking your bed,” she informs her over a shoulder. “Wake me again, and I’ll throttle you.”

“ _My_ bed?”

Reaching the top of the stairs, she looks down them to see Regina standing there with her mouth open, and smirks, turning down the hall in the direction of her bedroom as she calls back, “Did I stutter?”

 

* * *

 

Falling asleep has never been easier. She isn’t even really tired when her head hits the pillow, but the bed is insanely comfortable and with Regina’s scent all around her, Emma soon drifts off.

When she wakes, the usual confusion of where she is when she doesn’t wake in her own room is absent. She knows where she is immediately, that scent unmistakable. It helps that this isn’t the first time she’s fallen asleep in Regina’s bed. The other two times were total accidents, but they were also enough to get her used to the idea of waking up in Regina’s bed every morning for the rest of her life.

Rolling over, however, is definitely a surprise. She isn’t expecting someone in bed with her, but sure enough, Regina is _right there_. She’s asleep and for what feels like too many minutes, Emma is breathless. She’d forgotten the sheer joy she’d felt the last two times this had happened. Regina acted as though sharing her bed was the worst thing in the world, but asleep, she has never looked so serene, as if maybe it could be worse after all.

As her breathing returns to normal and her heart rate slows, Emma feels the tension in her limbs disappear. She relaxes, a small smile playing along her mouth as memories from earlier this morning run through her mind.

The significance of Regina calling her over doesn’t hit her until now and the realization briefly robs her of breath again.

She would kick herself if she thought it would do any good.

Regina bakes for a multitude of reasons, all emotional. She never bakes because she _wants to._ Baking calms her when she’s upset- angry, sad, uncomfortable. Emma can barely count as human when she’s woken prematurely, incapable of most thought, especially the kind that doesn’t involve passing out at her earliest convenience.

What had escaped her this morning- what shouldn’t have confused her at all, is that when Regina said she baked for her, what she really meant was that she’d baked to _bribe_ her. Red had convinced some of the townsfolk to leave Storybrooke for a week and Henry had gone with them, which meant Regina was alone in this big, empty house.

Regina had called her over for her _company._ Whatever she had dreamed had probably reminded her she was alone and her first thought, beyond the baking, was to call for Emma to make her feel better.

Emma feels like an ass.

“You’re staring.”

She starts, stifling a gasp. Of course she’s bloody staring. She has _eyes_ . What else is she supposed to do? _Not_ stare? Pfft. “Can you blame me?”

The smile spreads slowly but surely across Regina’s face. Eyes closed, she murmurs, “I’m sure you could find something more worthwhile to do with your time- coffee, for instance.”

Emma snorts. “Lady, if you’re expecting me to move any time soon, you’re in for a world of disappointment.”

A low, soft chuckle fills the air. “I have never met anyone lazier than you, Emma Swan.”

“Good.” She shifts closer, no longer able to resist the urge to touch as she raises her hand and brushes aside the hair covering one side of Regina’s face. Tucking it behind an ear, she adds, “I’d hate to be outdone.”

Lids fluttering, Regina smiles wider. “No risk of that,” she assures before she shuffles just a little bit closer. “Have you slept sufficiently, or should I simply assume my bed will be occupied for most of the day?”

Drawing a finger over her cheekbone and down the length of her nose, Emma pretends to ponder the question. In truth, she’s distracted by how warm and soft Regina’s skin is. She doesn’t think Regina minds considering she’s closed her eyes again. She’s also fairly certain she doesn’t imagine the contented hum that sounds from somewhere deep in Regina’s chest.

Eventually, she recalls the question, finger stilling at the edge of a mouth as she answers, “I guess it depends on what my motivation for getting out of bed versus my motivation for staying is.”

Regina cracks an eye open. “Perhaps you should see the kitchen.”

“You baked a lot, huh?”

“Mhmm.”

It’s tempting. More than, really. She’s definitely hungry, but given her current reason for staying in bed is the gorgeous woman beside her, it doesn’t compare. At all. “Eh.”

Regina laughs softly. “And here I thought you could be convinced of anything in exchange for food.”

“Believe me,” Emma replies, “I would do any number of questionable things for food- yours, especially, but some things just aren’t worth it.”

“More sleep is one of those, is it?”

She grins. “No.”

Both eyes open once more, Regina stares at her. A good, solid minute seems to pass before it dawns on her. “Oh.” She smirks. “In that case.”

She rolls from the bed and is on her feet before Emma can so much as blink. “Hey, not fair.”

Hands on her hips, still smirking, Regina peers down at her. “I didn’t bake for you for three hours so you could stay up here and not appreciate my food.”

 

* * *

 

While Regina showers- a scenario Emma is desperately trying not to imagine, thank you very much- she makes her way downstairs to the kitchen. She pauses momentarily beneath the door frame, not quite prepared for the sight of all the Tupperware containers lining the counter tops. She didn’t exactly doubt Regina when she said she’d baked a lot, but- well, Emma hadn’t quite understood the extent of it until she was standing there, staring at them all.

Shaking her head, she moves toward the coffeemaker before she forgets Regina had threatened her very life if there wasn’t coffee when she came down, and flicks it on. The food shouldn’t surprise her, really; Regina is crazy, always has been. It’s more of a wonder Emma wasn’t drawn to her sooner if she’s being honest with herself. She’d dated some real nutters in her time and not a single one of them could hold a candle to Regina’s charming, yet somehow terrifying at the same time, batshittery.

When Henry approached them for permission to go with Red, she’d known there was a reason she was supposed to play bad cop and say no, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure it out at the time.

“I guess there are worse things,” she muses aloud, popping the lid from one of the containers. Between Regina’s magic and her scary, almost limitless imagination, a baking frenzy is probably the least of Emma’s problems.

Biting into the scone she’d pilfered, Emma groans. It doesn’t hurt that Regina is a friggin’ genius in the kitchen. If the woman can make something as plain and boring as a _scone_ taste like goddamn heaven in your mouth, then, crazy or not, she deserves free reign to do whatever the hell she wants.

She finishes the first one and grabs two more before moving over to a stool and plopping herself down. She’s halfway through the third when the coffeemaker beeps to let her know it’s done, which is precisely when Regina appears, a hand on her shoulder, stopping her from rising.

Emma drops back onto the stool, more than happy to continue eating instead of getting up, and then Regina passes through her line of sight. Emma stares, forgetting the scone entirely as it slips from her fingers and her mouth dries. Regina is wearing what has to be the tightest pair of slacks she owns. Her ass looks _fantastic_ , and she _knows_ it if the swaying of her hips has anything to say about it.

“Jesus,” Emma mutters. If they were any tighter, she’d be able to outline each cheek perfectly.

_Lord have mercy on my fucking soul._

She can’t stop staring, even when Regina turns and she knows she’s been caught. She’s certain the image will be imprinted on her mind for the rest of forever.

“Problem?”

_Only if you consider oxygen a necessity._

With all the strength she can muster, she forces her eyes up. It’s a mistake, and one she has zero intention of correcting as her gaze falls on the front of that blouse, and the three buttons that remain suspiciously undone.

A dark little chuckle is the only indication she has that Regina is smirking at her but even without it, she knows. She can _feel_ it.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

“No,” Regina answers, amusement colouring her voice. “But if I’d known it was as easy as tight pants and flashing a little skin, I’d have tried it a lot sooner.”

“I can see your _bra_.”

“Good,” she counters, “it cost me a fortune; someone should.”

Setting one of the mugs in her hand down in front of Emma, she grabs the container of scones before rounding the counter and sitting beside her. She places the container between them and flicks the lid aside, picking up a scone as Emma remembers her own half-eaten one.

Regina watches her retrieve it, eyes rolling when she shoves it into her mouth. “Barbarian.” Emma hums. “Today’s your day off?”

“Yup,” she mumbles around the mouthful.

“Any plans?”

Chewing, she waits until she’s finished before she replies, “Besides annoying you? Nope.”

Regina smirks and raises a brow. “You actually plan to annoy me?”

“Not generally,” Emma admits, “but I’m making an exception today on account of the fact you’re insane.”

“And why, exactly, am I insane?”

“Uh.” Emma gestures around the room at all the food. “This, and the 5am texts... mostly.”

Regina glances around before she whips her gaze straight back to her and repeats, “Mostly?”

“Uh huh.” At her blank stare, Emma grins. “If I have to list all the reasons you’re crazy, we’ll be here all week.”

Expression contorting in something vaguely resembling offense, Regina demands, “Stop eating my food.”

If not for the quirk of her mouth and the fact Emma knows her so well, she’d almost have taken her seriously. “No.”

Her eyes narrow. “Get out of my house.”

“Still no,” Emma chuckles. She downs her coffee in one go, then rises for a refill. “Want some more?”

“I’ve barely taken two sips of this one.”

She shrugs and moves back to the coffeemaker. “So...” She finishes filling her mug before she turns around and leans back against the bench. “Are we going to talk about it?”

“What’s to talk about?” Regina refuses to meet her stare, which is one full of disbelief. She continues a split-second before Emma can voice the _are you serious right now_ look that she’s certain is taking over her face. “I miss my son... and I’m punishing you for it.”

Emma gapes. Her silence soon draws Regina’s gaze but she quickly closes her mouth and saunters back to her stool, taking a seat as she feigns casual and says, “Can’t say I was expecting you to just come right out and admit it, but alright.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Well,” she drawls. She minds about being woken up. She minds that Regina had been feeling lonely and she hadn’t had the foresight to offer to stay with her until their son returns, and she minds that Regina is still so unsure of herself that she didn’t think to just _ask_. “I mean, if you’re gonna do it in future, at least wait until like 7 or 8 before harassing me via text, but no... I don’t mind.”

Holding her gaze, from the corner of her eye, she can see Regina’s lower lip disappear between her teeth. She waits, never once breaking their stare as Regina debates with herself over whatever question happens to be going through her head. “Will you stay?”

She smiles, promising, “As long as you want.”

“Careful, Miss Swan,” Regina teases, “you may come to regret those words.”

“You should be the careful one, Madam Mayor,” Emma teases her right back, “you might end up being stuck with me.”

 

* * *

 

As the Sheriff of a very small town with almost no crime whatsoever, Emma thought her job was pretty boring. Sure, there were the occasional magical incidents with a new flavour of villain every couple of months or so, but other than that, her job is fairly straightforward; do a little patrolling, maybe chase down Pongo because he’s escaped his leash again, arrest a dwarf who can’t handle his liquor every once in a while, and paperwork.

Regina’s job, it seems, is _a lot_ of the latter and very little else. They’ve been at the office for three hours now, and the only other person Emma has seen is Regina’s secretary when she came in to hand Regina her coffee before adding at least half a dozen folders to the pile already on her desk.

Just looking at the thing is giving Emma anxiety.

She’d expected there to be meetings in which Regina would have to shush her every few minutes because she was bored. She is bored, but so far, there’s been nothing in the way of shushing and no meeting she can eavesdrop on.

It’s weird, and not just because it doesn’t live up to her expectations. It’s weird because Mulan, her deputy, hasn’t shown up either. When she’s the one working, there’s always an appointment she’s meant to keep, to keep Regina _appraised_. Her report, barring the rare and often minor change, is generally always the same, and yet the appointment is always there, on her computer screen, every day.

It never once occurred to her to question it, or to wonder if Regina did it simply to mess with her, until now.

“Where’s Mulan?”

“At the station, I assume.” Glancing up from her desk, Regina frowns. “Why, were you expecting her?”

“No,” Emma drawls, “but shouldn’t you be?”

“Why?”

“Why,” she repeats, exasperation pitching her voice a slight bit too high.

Regina’s frown deepens. “Yes?”

“Doesn’t she need to bring you the report?”

“Right. That.” The angle and distance between them makes her expression a little too difficult to read, but Emma’s pretty sure Regina is looking a little sheepish when she waves a hand dismissively and returns to her paperwork. “No.”

“What the shit, Regina?”

“I like your company,” she mutters without looking up, suddenly appearing fascinated by the files in front of her.

Emma doesn’t believe it. She refuses. She has _not_ spent the last four years coming into this office at exactly 11 am every work day because Regina wanted to spend time with her. _Refuses_ . “You pretty much always find one reason or another to yell at me,” she whines. It was another one of those batshittery things; the reports were almost _always_ the same. There was never any _reason_ for Regina to yell at her, but she always somehow found one regardless.

Peering up at her then, Regina’s mouth quirks. “It’s therapeutic.”

Emma blinks slowly, processing. At least twenty minutes, almost every day, she has stood in this office, right there in the center of the floor, holding her tongue because tolerating Regina’s shitty moods is preferable to the alternative. “You’re an ass.”

What started as a small, sly half-smile blossoms into a full blown grin. “Yes,” Regina admits, gaze dropping back to her papers as she says, “And when you are off the clock, you are free to call me that, and any other name under the sun you can think of.”

Slumping back against the couch, Emma pouts. It’s unfair; anyone else and she’d happily take that as an invitation to start insulting them. With that grin still prominently on her face though, all she wants to do is launch herself across Regina’s desk and kiss her senseless, the _bitch_.

With a sigh, she looks up at the clock in hope. 11:25. _Close enough_. She stands, patting her back pocket, and frowning when she realizes she’s forgotten her wallet. She sighs again and holds out her hand, summoning it to her palm.

“You’re leaving?”

Tucking it into her pocket, she continues to frown as she turns her gaze toward Regina. That _almost_ sounded panicked. “Just to grab some lunch. You want your usual?”

The relief that flashes across her face is unmistakable. “Please,” she murmurs. “A decent coffee would be nice, also.”

Emma nods. “One boring chicken salad and a coffee as black and bitter as your soul,” she teases, “coming right up.”

Regina squints back at her. “I _can_ still fireball you.”

Hiding her grin, Emma deliberately turns her back on her and saunters over to the door. “You’re so scary.”

“Get out.”

As she opens the door, she throws over her shoulder, “Make me,” and is suddenly propelled through, as if an invisible hand had shoved her. She laughs, spinning on her heel in time to see the mock sweet, innocent flutter of Regina’s lashes before the door slams in her face.

 

* * *

 

She’s sitting at the counter waiting for Granny to bring her her order when the bell above the door chimes. She doesn’t look, doesn’t need to. Usually she can tell who it is by their footsteps, or, in Regina and Rumple’s case, the way the surrounding air thickens with tension. Today, though, it’s the cologne; specific to Hook. It’s overpowering in a way one would associate with a teenage boy not quite used to wearing deodorant, but she’s happy he’s still trying to make the effort even after their not entirely mutual separation.

It sure beats the stench of alcohol she used to get whenever he drew near.

“Hello love.”

“Killian,” she responds, gesturing to the seat beside her in invitation.

He sits. “Care to join me for lunch?”

“Can’t.”

“Regina?” The hostility that coated his voice in the past whenever he said her name is absent. Now, it’s said with nothing more than casual interest and Emma inclines her head. “She’s got you whipped already?”

While _yes_ , she isn’t expecting anything from Regina in return considering she’d offered to grab her lunch in the first place. Maybe a thank you, but that’s about it. “That would imply we’re sleeping together,”  she counters with a roll of her eyes. “It’s called basic human decency, you should try it some time.”

The silence is unexpected and she peers at him from the corner of her eye. His expression is even more unexpected. “You’re not?”

Disbelief. Confusion. She frowns. “Huh?”

“You’re still not…” He wiggles his eyebrows up and down, and grins. “You know.”

“No?”

His expression quickly transforms into a scowl. “Why the bloody hell not?”

“Uh.”

“You dumped me because you’re in love with-”

She slaps his shoulder, cutting him off. “Not so damn loud, jesus.”

“Oh please,” he scoffs, “like she isn’t the only one in this town who hasn’t figured it out yet.”

Brow raised, she retorts, “You hadn’t.”

“Says you.”

“What?”

“Don’t give me that look, I had you figured out before we all went on our merry adventure to Neverland.”

“I- I didn’t,” she sputters, “I wasn’t-” _what the actual fuck._

“You were head over heels,” he adds.

Emma glares at him. He knew. He knew, and still he- “Then what was all that crap about me being your happy ending, and making me kiss you?”

He grimaces. “I made a suggestion that you might like to thank me for saving your father’s life,” he corrects. “You’re the one that decided I was making sense and kissed me.” Her lips part but he continues as though he doesn’t notice. “As for my happy ending… you’re an attractive woman, love; I would have happily made you my wife.”

“You’re…” She shakes her head, speechless. “I don’t even- I can’t believe you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, mate; you’re an embarrassment to studs everywhere.”

“Ahem.”

Starting, Emma quickly turns her head, and flushes. “Oh, Granny. Sorry. Thanks,” she stands, tugging her wallet from her pocket and throwing a few bills on the counter before she retrieves the food. “I, uh.” She glances at Hook, his grin infuriating her. “I’m gonna… leave now.”

_Before I punch you._

She turns around, already halfway to the door before Hook calls out. “Say hi to Regina for me.”

She sighs, hand on the door. “You know what?” It’s childish, but fuck it. “Eat a dick, Hook.”

“I’d return the sentiment, but I know you don’t swing that way anymore.”

“I hate you,” she growls, throwing open the door and storming from the diner with his laughter at her back.

She doesn’t realize until she’s about thirty seconds from Town Hall that she’d forgotten Regina’s coffee. Thankfully, when she walks into the Mayor’s office, said Mayor isn’t there waiting for her. She’s too relieved to bother asking Monica, the secretary, where Regina is and instead crosses to the coffee table where she dumps their food before she’s out the door again.

Her phone starts to ring just as she turns on to Mifflin street. She considers not answering, but the thought barely has time to fully form before she dismisses it. The last thing she wants to do is make Regina worry, especially over something as silly as coffee- not that that’s going to stop her from waltzing into Regina’s house to make it for her.

Answering as she wanders up the driveway, Regina immediately questions, “What are you doing?”

“Getting coffee,” she replies, climbing the stairs to the front porch. “Why, what are you doing?”

She grins when Regina snorts. “Sitting on the couch, wondering if I should wait or eat without you.”

“I don’t mind either way.” Looking up at the house, Emma wrinkles her nose as a thought occurs to her. “Hey, you don’t like… ward your house when you’re not in it, right?”

“No… Why are you at my house?”

“I forgot your coffee while I was at the diner,” she explains, “and I figured you like your coffee better anyway, so…” It’s only a half lie, and if she’s lucky Regina won’t really care enough to-

“You are aware that I know you as well as you know me, and that I also know you’re not being completely straight with me, yes?”

Sighing inwardly, she rolls her eyes at herself. Of course she’s not that lucky. “Hook was at the diner when I left and I’m afraid if I go back there, I might kill him.”

In the silence that follows, she takes the opportunity to magic herself from the porch and into the kitchen. She’d expected the silence. Any time anyone mentions Hook around Regina, she goes all quiet. It can last anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes, and then she’ll give this little sigh, her brow pinched, like she’s annoyed at herself for giving him any thought at all.

Emma tries not to talk about him in her presence, not now that she knows why Regina hates him so much.

Putting her phone on speaker, she places it down on the counter and begins fiddling with the coffeemaker, ensuring it has everything it needs before she turns it on. The sigh comes as she’s returning the coffee grinds to the pantry, and Regina drawls wryly, “I confess a certain preference for your first answer.”

Emma hums. It _is_ why she’d given it to start with. She might not be the smartest woman on the planet, but she knows Regina well enough to know who is, and isn’t, welcome in their conversations. “You should’ve trusted me,” she teases, “but no, you have to know everything.”

Another snort, and a sniff. “We all have our flaws.”

“Excuse you, I’m perfect.” She can barely say it with a straight face, so when Regina laughs, she laughs with her. “Okay, so I might have _some_ flaws.”

“Nonsense,” Regina counters, “talking with your mouth full, being able to trip over your own feet, and turning any conversation you’re a part of perverted are skills we should all aspire to one day possess.”

Emma grins, too amused to even pretend to be offended. Those are the very least of what make her imperfect, and they both know it. “I’m sensing a little sarcasm there, Madam Mayor.”

“Only a little?”

“Uh huh,” she hums. “You forgot that I’m slow.”

“I imagine I forgot plenty.”

Gasping, laughing, she threatens, “I’m going to spit in your coffee.”

Regina gives a little warning growl that makes her stomach flip. “You do that and I’m going to set fire to your entire wardrobe.”

The words in combination with the growl sober Emma. She stops laughing and bites her lip, debating before she figures; what the fuck- Regina _did_ just accuse her of being perverted and when the woman is right, the woman is right. “If you wanted me naked,” she flirts, “all you had to do was ask.”

Regina chuckles, low and dirty. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

 

* * *

 

Arriving back at the office with a coffee in one hand and a cupcake in the other, Emma ignores the semi-amused look she receives. Handing Regina her coffee, she dumps herself onto the couch, more than ready to eat. Only, reaching for the basket of fries it _seemed_ Regina was kind enough to unpack for her, she notices a very distinct lack of them.

“Regina…”

“Hmm?”

Slowly, Emma turns her head. As she suspected, the curious, innocent hum is simply a facade. Regina is _grinning_ . She knows what she did and she has the _balls_ to grin about it. “Since when,” Emma drawls, “exactly, does your usual include fries?”

The grin promptly fades, another facade emerging to take its place. “I have no idea what you’re-”

“Don’t even,” she interrupts. “You think I don’t know precisely how many fries fit into this basket?” Raising said basket, she shakes it for good measure. There is _maybe_ half left. “Do you realize who it is you’re trying to lie to right now?”

As with the grin, the innocent expression too fades and Regina tilts her head, a small smile playing along her lips. “You would think as a former Evil Queen, the feeling of danger would be something I know well, and yet…” She putters off, the smile growing. “You are quite terrifying in this moment, Miss Swan.”

Emma huffs. She doesn’t sense even the sliver of a lie and Regina _sounds_ genuine, but she feels as though she’s being teased regardless. The feeling only grows when Regina leans into her, gaze dark and hooded.

“It’s rather attractive,” she purrs with a grin far more shark-like than usual.

Emma blinks and rears back, suddenly full with an odd combination of disbelief and arousal. She swallows thickly- roughly. As much as she loves food, she’d never considered it something to be flirted over, until today. Granted, Regina is the one turning her on with those deep, smokey eyes, an unfairly sexy voice, and the more fittingly applied _terrifying_ grin, but none of that makes it any less weird.

Flashing her a more sedate smile in the resulting silence, Regina snatches another fry from the basket and pops it into her mouth. Emma splutters, earning herself one of those perfectly arched brows. “Something a matter, dear?”

Grumbling a, “No,” she slumps back against the couch and hugs the basket to her chest.

Regina chuckles. “No more,” she promises, patting her thigh before she leans forward and retrieves her own food. Emma side-eyes her, not quite willing to believe her. “Thank you for lunch.”

“You’re welcome.”

They eat in silence and slowly, but surely, Emma lowers her guard. Regina watches her from time to time out of the corner of her eye, mouth twitching. Curling. Teasing. Emma tries not to pay her too much attention, but it’s difficult. Even when it’s at her expense, she needs very little to be happy, and Regina in a good mood? That makes her _very_ happy.

It used to worry her just how happy Regina’s good moods make her. She could be having the worst day imaginable and one grin, a smile- a _twitch_ of amusement from Regina would have her floating on cloud nine.

How she hadn’t realized she was in love sooner is a mystery.

“So…” Placing her now empty container back on the table, Regina picks up her coffee and sits back. “What was it the imbecile did that made you want to kill him?”

“Uh.” Outwardly, her expression remains blank. Inwardly, Emma panics. She can’t lie. Regina had already called her out once today. “I… I don’t-” _want to tell you_.

She shakes her head. No, that would be a lie as well. She wants to. She _can’t_ but she wants to. Desperately. Even if Regina doesn’t return her feelings- even if the flirting is simply Regina having a little fun with her and means absolutely nothing; she would at least _know_ . The wondering, the pining; there’s a chance it could all end if she would just grow a damn backbone and finally _tell_ Regina how she feels.

Before she can figure out _how_ though, Regina rises with a sigh and moves back to her desk. She sits behind it before fixing Emma with a look that screams annoyance. “If you don’t want to tell me-”

“But I _do_ ,” Emma protests, groaning as her head thumps back against the couch. She does, but what if? What if telling her fucks everything up? What if she doesn’t feel the same and their friendship is forever changed, and awkward because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut?

“Well?”

Sighing, she lifts her head and the look has softened into something more comforting, more reassuring. It’s frustrating, really, that it works, but it does. She can’t lie. Not when Regina is looking at her more openly. “I’m… scared.”

“Scared,” Regina repeats. She nods. “Of what?”

“Of ruining our friendship,” she replies. She chews the inside of her cheek and waits- waits for the expression to transform into something that resembles even vague understanding and when it does, she takes a breath and adds, “Because you don’t feel the same way.”

“Oh.”

One minute Regina is across the room with a somewhat stunned expression on her face, and in the next she’s back beside Emma. Her expression is no longer stunned, but it is intense- so much so that Emma has to grip the cushion beneath her to stop from poofing herself somewhere far, far away as that one word plays on a loop.

 _Oh_.

It wasn’t the outright rejection she expected, but it hadn’t filled her with hope either. Regina being close to her does. Regina looking at her the way she is, does. She hasn’t seen this look on Regina before, but it is familiar. She sees it in the mirror every morning, can feel it whenever she lays eyes on this woman who takes up so much of her heart these days, she has no idea how there’s room in there for anyone else.

“You have always captivated me.” Her brow furrows and her lips part in question but Regina touches her cheek, silencing the words as she draws a thumb across her mouth. “I have often wondered if those gazes I sometimes caught you giving me meant what I hoped- if the red in your cheeks was embarrassment at being caught or-” She taps a finger against the side of her head and chuckles. “-something more… intriguing.”

Emma glances down, her cheeks no doubt warm with that same red. It was never embarrassment. The same cannot be said this time, however. This; the interest, the desire in Regina’s voice is more than she could have hoped for, but the touching- the teasing is overwhelming.

“Emma.” Her lids flutter as the thumb brushes over her lower lip once more before stilling, pulling down gently. “Look at me, Emma.”

Taking a quiet breath to compose herself, she forces her eyes open and up, only to lose it again. Despite the demand, Regina doesn’t meet her stare. She gazes at her mouth instead and waits for Emma to follow her lead before she wets her lower lip and leans in.

“I’m going to kiss you now, Miss Swan.”

Thumb sliding to the corner of her mouth, Regina clasps the side of her neck and draws her in. Emma has just enough time to protest, and then they’re kissing. It’s soft at first, not too slow but not too fast as they savour the feel of one another. Simultaneous moans see their lips parting, tongues stroking, exploring, dancing around one another and coaxing more muscle clenching sounds.

Before too long, Regina’s hand is nearing her chest and Emma is sinking back against the couch, groaning and grabbing for the sudden weight in her lap as Regina straddles her. Somewhere along the line, Regina’s blouse had ridden up and Emma’s fingers find flesh; warm and smooth to the touch.

Her grip tightens and Regina gasps, bucking into her, then pulling back with a low, spine tingling growl. “Nails, Emma.”

Eyes widening, she quickly lets go. “Sorry.” She glances at her hands sheepishly. “It’s been a… um.” Looking back up, her mind blanks. If Regina staring at her before was intense, there isn’t a word for the way she’s staring at her now. “What?”

Regina stares for a few more seconds before she blinks. She blinks again and shakes her head, as though coming out of a daze. “I… hmm.” She leans back, a hand on either of Emma’s shoulders. “I was not expecting to enjoy that quite as much.”

Emma frowns. What is she meant to say to that? Was it a compliment? Should she be offended, or grateful?

“Thanks?”

Laughing, Regina cups her cheek. “Don’t pout,” she murmurs, bringing their mouths back together. She kisses her soft, slow but sweet, humming this time when they part. “I expected to like it very much,” she confesses. “You exceeded well beyond my expectations.”

“Oh.” Incapable and, more importantly, unwilling to hide her grin, Emma questions, “So, no need to practice my technique?”

“Well…” Raising her other hand to the opposite cheek, Regina strokes her thumbs over both and brushes their noses together. “It wouldn’t hurt to practice,” she says. “We wouldn’t want you to get rusty.”

“No,” Emma agrees before she presses forward and captures her mouth. They definitely don’t want that.

 

* * *

 

It’s a wonder what one little makeout session can do for a person, and to a person. Specifically, Emma has never felt so high. Making out was all well and great, but it’s the after she won’t ever be able to do without. Is Regina busy reading something? Writing? Scowling at some incomprehensible text on her phone? Doesn’t matter. If she looks up from whatever it is she’s doing and Emma has the right expression on her face, she gets a kiss.

There seem to be a lot of right expressions; from smiling to frowning, to the glare she offered Rumple when he strutted into Regina’s office like he owned the place and refused to leave until Regina promised him- something. Emma doesn’t know what, too busy wondering if anyone besides Belle would mind it if she kicked him in the crotch.

Regina had had this amused, cute little smirk from kissing her senseless a few minutes prior, and then he’d barged in and ruined it, the _dick_.

Everything improved exponentially when he left. She was not expecting Regina to suddenly appear in her lap as the door shut behind him, but she was definitely not complaining. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine confessing her feelings would result in this, but here they are; making out like two horny teenagers who’d just discovered there were far better things for their mouths to be doing than eating, or talking, or _breathing_.

Parting, panting, Emma clings to the back of her neck as she brings their heads together. Regina rubs against her, nose against nose, lips against lips- against cheeks. She reminds Emma of a cat; affectionate when it suits her, needy only in these rare instances when it does.

Eventually, Regina pulls back but it’s only to bury her face in Emma’s neck. Emma smiles, trailing the hand away from her neck and down her spine before wrapping her arms around her. She wants to tease her, desperately, but then she remembers the last time she accused Regina of being a cuddler. She doesn’t want it to stop, and she also probably doesn’t want to rue the day like Regina promised her she would if she ever mentioned it again.

Then, it had been an unconscious thing and it made _some_ sense for Regina to deny it; what she does in her sleep is out of her control, after all. Now, although a perfectly conscious choice, Emma wouldn’t really be surprised if she continues to deny it.

Come to think of it, she’d be even less surprised if it was while Regina is still cuddling her.

She’s said it before, and she’ll say it again; the woman is batshit.

“I adore you,” she murmurs, incapable of not saying _something_ , and glad she did when Regina presses a kiss to her neck, throat rumbling with a pleased hum.

A couple of seconds pass before the tip of Regina’s nose travels the length of her neck, lips following, a whispered caress, up and behind her ear where Regina pauses to tug the lobe between teeth. “I gathered,” she says, tongue soothing the mild sting. “You’re not very subtle.”

Ignoring the heat flush throughout her body, Emma rolls her eyes. “You’re so full of yourself.”

Regina chuckles. “I am who am I,” she husks and nips at her ear before she teases, “and I am who you adore.”

Tipping her head away from that torturous mouth, Emma shakes it and gives an exaggerated sigh. “This is the last time I have feelings,” she lies. “All I get is-”

That evil, wonderfully delicious mouth silencing her. She can tell Regina is laughing at her- can feel the way their bodies shake with it, but she groans into the kiss, instantly surrendering to its wet, silky heat as fingers glide through her hair and nails scratch along her scalp.

It is so much more than she had hoped for.

“You must,” Regina says, drawing back, breathless. She kisses Emma’s chin, her jaw, then tugs, forcing her head back to nibble on her throat.

Emma must, she concedes silently, if only for repeats of this, multiple times a day, if possible. Feelings aren’t her strong point, but if this is her reward for trying, who is she to deny Regina? Aloud, she says, “Okay.”

Which is quite clearly the _wrong_ thing to say because Regina _stops_.

“We should probably…” She retreats. Not completely, but enough that the space between them actually exists now. “Our first time probably shouldn’t be on the couch in my office.”

Emma blinks. First time? “Uh.” She looks around. There would be worse places. Regina’s office is- well, like everything else in Regina’s life, really; flawless, and almost stupidly pretty.

“Am I moving too-”

Her eyes widen and her head snaps back to Regina in panic. “No!” She winces, not quite meaning to shout, and lowers her voice. “I’m sorry. I just…” Am so screwed. “Full disclosure; you kissing me kinda turns off my brain and the reboot takes a bit, so you can imagine what you implying me getting to have sex with you might do, yeah?”

Shoulders visibly relaxing, Regina slumps forward with a laugh and Emma grins, wrapping her arms around her for the second time today.

 

* * *

 

Regardless of what either of them wanted, Regina did still have some work to do. They stayed at office for another two hours before it was time to go home, and of course their son has to have the worst timing in the world. He calls during some very heavy flirting in the kitchen in which Emma is pretty sure she’s going to have to leave dinner for a while longer while she sees to what is apparently Regina’s very insistent libidio.

Regina isn’t paying attention to her phone. Emma wishes she wasn’t either but she recognizes the ringtone and with Herculean effort, manages to separate from their kiss long enough for Regina to recognize it too.

Smiling and with one last, quick kiss to swollen lips, Emma cheekily pats her on the backside and gestures her out. “Go on,” she urges, turning back to the stove where their steaks continue to sizzle away in the pan.

Fingers brush against her lower back, and then Regina is gone, the familiar click of her heels receding as she returns to the foyer for her purse. Emma deflates as soon as the ringing stops, a little frustrated but extremely relieved also. She wasn’t lying about the thought of what sex with Regina does to her, but what she’d left out in their earlier conversation is that it’s been a while, as in years.

As in, before Storybrooke.

Hearing the returning click of familiar heels, she shakes her head and tries to focus on finishing their dinner. Maybe they are going too fast. Maybe Regina will come to the same conclusion before they start up again.

Or maybe she’s putting too much thought into it. Maybe she won’t be nervous at all and it’ll be like riding a bike.

She groans quietly at the thought, barely resisting the temptation to smack herself over the head as she turns down the element and begins to prepare their salads. She hardly notices Regina until she’s almost done and there are hands sliding over her hips, tugging her back against a warm, firm body.

“I never thought I’d see the day… Emma Swan, willingly making salad.”

Emma rolls her eyes but she’s smiling as she presses back against her. “I was going to make fries,” she says, “but I figured you’d eat them all and if I wasn’t going to get any anyway…”

“Never going to let that go, are you?” Raising a hand from her hip, Regina brushes the hair away from her neck and presses a kiss to her pulse. “Your mother would share.”

Emma grimaces. “One, this is hardly the time and two, I’m not my mother.”

“No, you’re certainly not.” Kisses turn to nibbling and then, husked beneath her ear, “If you were, I certainly wouldn’t be debating the fastest way to have you naked and spread on my kitchen counter.”

She stiffens before she’s even consciously aware of doing it. She doesn’t _want_ to but, well- that is perhaps the most thrilling, and most nerve-wracking sentence she’s heard in a while.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is _wrong_ ,” she argues.

“If you don’t want to-”

“No, I do.” Boy, does she. “I just… haven’t, for a really, really long time.”

“Oh,” Regina breathes warmly against her jaw.

“Yeah…” Closing her eyes, Emma takes a breath and admits, “I’m not sure I’ll be any good, and you deserve-”

“No,” Regina snaps and all of a sudden she’s turning her around. Emma blinks, impressed Regina was able to handle her so effortlessly, and a little bit scared. “You can stop right there, Miss Swan.”

She blinks again. She hasn’t heard that tone in a while. “What?”

“If pleasing me is truly all you are worried about…” Her breath hitches as the terrifying, shark-like smile from earlier returns and Regina leans into her. “Then I assure you, _Em-ma_ , I could come from your kisses alone.”

“Oh.” _Jesus._

“Yes.” Regina tilts her head to the side, her expression expectant. “So?”

“Uh.” Emma glances at the stove. She’s definitely not hungry for food anymore, but she’s pretty sure the second she has Regina stripped and moaning her name, they won’t be coming up for air for a while. “I would love to get naked for you, but… dinner?”

“Hmm.” Following her gaze, Regina sighs and says, “I suppose we shouldn’t waste good food.”

“Right.”

“And Henry will call again after dinner.” Releasing her, she takes a step back. “He wanted to speak with you but I told him you were busy.”

“Okay…”

Leaning back against the opposite counter, Regina gives her the once over. “We have waited this long.” she muses aloud. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to wait a little longer.”

Mouth falling open, Emma stares. “We- we have?”

Shooting her a look that quite clearly states _you’re an idiot_ , Regina drawls, “You didn’t think you were the only one pining for someone they thought were too good for them, did you?”

Outrage, disbelief; Emma cycles through both multiple times before she’s able to come up with what she thinks is an appropriate response and sputters, “Are you high?”

Regina smirks, expression instantly shifting from insulting to playful. “No, but I expect to be soon.”

Emma strangles a slightly hysterical laugh and points to the door. “Get out.”

Regina does no such thing. She laughs, not hysterical, but rich and deep, and all kinds of hot. “Of _my_ kitchen?”

“Yes!” As if her restraint isn’t already at its limit. How is she supposed to focus on finishing their dinner if Regina is just going to stand there, flirting with her, and telling her things she’s been longing to hear for _years_ , as if it’s just _that_ easy. “I can’t have your filthy mind distracting me,” Emma says, gesturing more insistently to the door. “Out.”

“Very well.” Pushing from the counter, Regina does the exact opposite and steps into her. She presses against her, capturing her mouth before Emma can protest, and kisses her thoroughly. “I hope you’re this bossy when you’re on top of me.”

Breathless, Emma can only stare after her as Regina turns away and sashays from the kitchen. “ _Oh my god._ ”

 

* * *

 

Henry’s call consists of pestering her until she admits there might be something going on between her and his mother, as said mother clears the table and glares at her offer of help because Regina is a capable, independent woman who- wants to do everything for herself and doesn’t like nice people. Probably. It is then followed by at least five minutes of him bragging to Red and reminding her she owes him twenty dollars. Emma is torn between laughing and threatening to tell Regina on them before he launches into telling her all about his trip so far.

They’d left yesterday morning and hadn’t made it far. Besides Henry, no one else had been to New York before, so that’s where they’d decided to stop for the night. Apparently he’d spent most of the day with Belle, happily content in their nerdom as they’d wiled away their time at the Library while everyone else actually explored their new surroundings.

Regina returns midway through his rambling to give her a beer and plop down in her lap like she has every right. Emma isn’t ashamed to admit that when it comes to her, Regina has a right to do quite a lot of things that others wouldn’t dream of, or who would have had their asses handed to them for trying.

As their conversation winds down and Henry finishes saying goodnight, Emma passes the phone to her. The smile that lights up her face is instant, voice incredibly soft when she reminds Henry that she loves him. It practically turns Emma into a puddle of goo, as is custom whenever she has the honour of seeing the overwhelming truth of just how perfect her decision all those years ago had worked out; to give him up for his best chance.

Regina is more than she could have asked for, for her son- for herself.

Fate, destiny- sheer, stupid luck; whatever the reason for the way their lives have intertwined, she couldn’t be happier.

Setting her phone down on the table, Regina turns to peer at her. “That’s an interesting smile you have there, dear. Should I be worried?”

“Possibly,” Emma admits, the smile widening as she drapes her arm over Regina’s thighs. “I suppose it depends.”

“Oh?” Regina raises a brow. “On what, exactly?”

Emma shrugs with feigned indifference, so far from it. “How you feel about being claimed.”

“Hmm. You mean like this?”

She ducks her head and as soon as Emma feels those lips on her throat, suckling her skin, her eyes slip shut. She sinks deeper and deeper into the sensation until the sharp sting of teeth at her collarbone bring her back, eyes flying open as a gasp leaves her mouth. Regina caresses the bite with her hot, wet tongue, grinning as she raises her head and purrs, “ _Mine_.”

Taking a minute to compose herself, Emma nods. She’s definitely going to be needing more of that before their day is through. Offering the understatement of the century, she says, “Not bad, but I was thinking more like…”

Threading fingers through her hair, she tugs Regina’s head back and claims her lips, tongue sweeping into her mouth, causing a moan to vibrate between them. She kisses Regina deeply, thoroughly, until breathing through her nose is no longer enough and her lungs burn with the need for air.

She nips at a plump, lower lip and growls, “ _Mine_.”

“Well.” A small, breathless, and undeniably delighted, chuckle graces the moment before dark, lust-laden eyes open and Regina presses their heads together. She nuzzles, twisting in her lap until there’s a thigh on either side of her, straddling her properly as she purrs, “I can certainly see myself becoming... accustomed.”

“Good.” Smoothing her hair down, smiling, Emma trails her cheek with the tips of her fingers as she confesses, “Because I don’t think I’ll be able to not do that for a very long time.”

Regina hums and, as Emma’s fingers move to trace her lips, she captures her wrist and kisses each one before she leans back. Drawing the hand down, she husks, “Still nervous?”

Watching her fingers skip over the long, elegant throat to the shirt she only just now realizes is missing the straining button of everlasting promise, Emma swallows thickly and shakes her head.

“Pleased you can see it this time, I see.”

It takes her a minute to understand Regina is referring to earlier this morning when she commented on her bra, and her eyes snap up. “I was pleased then,” she admits, cheeks warm. She murmurs, “I wasn’t aware that was the point.”

Guiding her fingers over the top of each breast, Regina chuckles at her shudder, and bends forward. “That,” she confesses silkily, “is always the point, _Em-ma_.”

 _Well then_. 

If it’s her appreciation Regina wants, then it’s her appreciation Regina will get.

Emma reclaims her hand and uses it to grab Regina by the back of her neck, pulling her into another kiss. It’s meant to distract, to give Regina something to focus on that isn’t her other hand but for a while, that hand doesn’t move, save for the occasional flex of fingers wanting to do more than simply lay against a hip. She gets lost for some time in the way Regina’s mouth feels, soft and warm, and wet.

Neither of them are quiet in their pleasure but Regina is something else, seemingly incapable of stemming the flow of sounds meant to arouse- to instill confidence that Emma is doing something _right_ , whether she needs the boost or not. After their afternoon together, she doesn’t, but the building arousal serves as a reminder.

A reminder that she had a plan when she started this.

Gripping Regina’s neck more firmly, she kisses her deeper- harder while directing her other hand to the rest of those buttons. She unbuttons the first two easily, without complaint but the third is.... difficult. Regina has taken control of the kiss as she sucks on her tongue, hands no longer holding her shoulders but cupping her jaw, fingers playing in the hair at the nape of her neck, making her clumsy.

Her skin tingles and her body thrums. She tries again, only to touch flesh, the last of the buttons conspicuously absent; like magic. She doesn’t give it much thought. One of them had gotten impatient, but it doesn’t much matter which when Regina is groaning into her mouth and arching into her hand.

Emma caresses her stomach. She’s so warm, almost hot to the touch, and _soft_. Like her mouth, Emma can’t get enough and Regina is more than willing to accommodate her desire for more as she grabs her hand and guides it toward the clasp at the front of her bra.

Moaning, with zero hesitation, Emma snaps it open and cups her breast. It’s still not enough and she releases Regina’s neck, suddenly needing the weight of both in her hands. She strokes and squeezes soft, pliable flesh, growing wetter by the second as Regina squirms before she gasps, breaking the kiss.

“ _Nails_.”

Blinking, breathing heavily, Emma gazes at her for a long moment, processing, then glances down at her hands. Her mouth dries at the sight of hard, dark nipples peeking at her from between thumb and forefingers. She forgets _why_ they stopped kissing and pushes Regina back enough to lower her head and suck one into her mouth.

“Fuck.”

She hums, bathing the nub with her tongue, fingers playing with its twin, pinching and pulling, drawing more of those delicious sounds from Regina’s throat. The addition of teeth earns her another swear, this one a long, drawn out moan that forces her to pause- to shudder and savour before she returns to grazing the stiff little peak.

“God,” Regina groans. “ _Emma_.”

Hearing her name said like that, she has to grin. It’s not just lust, but exasperation and disbelief; Regina had clearly underestimated her again.

With one, small bite that makes Regina buck, Emma releases her nipple with a pop and raises her head, amusement obvious. “Something wrong?”

“No,” Regina growls and attacks her mouth, fingers tangled in her hair and clinging to her head, leaving her no room to maneuver.

Her hands are free though and she uses them to her advantage, touching Regina anywhere and everywhere. She learns that it’s not just her mouth that’s capable of coaxing those wanton sounds, nor is it just her kisses that might very well be enough to drive Regina over the edge.

Regina seems to realize it too, tearing her mouth away. Emma tries to follow but she’s stopped short by the hand still in her hair, yanking her head back. She whimpers. “If the first time we have sex is in my dining room,” Regina purrs, “the least you can do is touch me.”

Emma swallows and deliberately drags her nails down Regina’s sides. Regina hisses. “Still want me to touch you?”

Regina growls then. She releases her, speaking as she begins to rise. “We can do something about those cla-”

Emma rises with her, interrupting, grabbing her hips and pushing her back against the table. “Or we can take off those ridiculously sexy, tight pants and you can come in my mouth.”

“Oh,” Regina moans and it’s all the permission Emma needs to do what she has wanted to do for these last four years of friendship, in which she has fantasized about this very thing during the rare times they have dinner together without their son present.

She quickly unbuttons Regina’s slacks and pushes them down her thighs before lifting her onto the table. Regina lets out a puff of breath that forces Emma to look at her face. Seeing the slightly dazed expression, she grins. “You liked that?” Regina nods. “Then I’ll be sure to manhandle you more in future.”

“Please do,” she murmurs, lying back on her elbows before wrapping her legs around Emma’s waist. Emma frowns down at her, the plan to have her face buried between those legs hindered by the move. Regina smirks. “Kiss me first.”

Emma sighs deeply, feigning exasperation as she leans over her, a hand on either side of her head, and teases, “So needy.”

Sliding a hand over her shoulder and around her neck, Regina pulls her closer. “Get used to it,” she breathes, connecting their lips.

Emma hums, thinking she'll do just that. Kissing Regina is officially the most distracting thing in the world. She’d been so very eager to have her head between Regina’s thighs, but the moment their mouths meet, she's a goner. If this became her life, she’s certain she would have very little in the way of complaints; the need for air, maybe, every once in a while. Also pausing briefly to take care of her body’s other needs- or maybe a spell to put all of that on hold until Regina is out of her s- forever.

Just, forever, because the idea that it’s even possible to get Regina out of her system is both highly laughable and extremely… not.

The heat, the taste, the silky wet tongue that chases, stroking her tongue- her mouth, her lips. The sighs, the hums, the whimpers and moans that continue to flow, to fill her with an all encompassing desire to do everything within her power to keep them coming, louder and more frequently if at all possible.

If Regina’s control weren’t so inhuman, if her patience weren’t so thin, they would never again do anything else.

But her control is inhuman, her patience is thin, and well before Emma is ready to give up her mouth, Regina is guiding- forcing her, really- away from her mouth and down, down, down. Emma pauses at her chest, despite the hand on her head encouraging her further, to worship those beautiful breasts, to lick and suck, and nibble until Regina is breathless, voice low when she says her name.

Emma kisses a trail down her stomach, hands caressing their way down her body to settle on her thighs. Pushing, spreading Regina open, she presses her mouth to warm, wet lace, and inhales deeply, groaning even deeper as her nose fills with a heavenly scent.

Regina says her name again, gasped and punctuated by a tug of her hair. And again, when Emma opens her mouth and drags teeth over folds in a silent reprimand, refusing to be rushed.

Retreating, needing the space to stop from changing her mind, she turns her head and mouths a hot, twitching thigh as she strokes the other, palm flat and inching closer to where it needs to be.

She misjudges, unable to see exactly what she’s doing when her thumb slips beneath lace rather than over it like she intends. She pauses but only for a second, accepting it in the next as she draws the thumb over warm, wet folds, up and down, smiling into flesh at the wanton sound from above.

A hand twists in her hair and Regina begs, “Emma, _please_.”

Simultaneously, the plea takes her breath and makes her throb. The desperation is there in abundance, making her want to give in as she kisses her way back to the lace-covered sex. She extracts her thumb and replaces it with the remaining four fingers, curling, gripping and pulling until Regina is revealed in all her wet, swollen glory.

One half of a moan sticks in Emma’s throat while the other half is lost to the soft, slick heat now gracing her mouth. She surrenders fully, giving Regina exactly what she wants- what they both want as she strokes her slit, up and down, lapping up as much of the sweet, slightly tart juices as she can before she zeroes in on Regina’s clit.

Already swollen, Regina cries out as Emma takes the bundle into her mouth. She keeps her suckling light, but intense, a single goal in mind as her eyes flick up to watch as Regina unravels beneath her.

The release isn’t quite as slow as she would like, but the sight of Regina with her head thrown back, body arching in pleasure, more than makes up for it. Emma relishes the view as she helps her through it, tongue circling, stroking, slipping inside and curling, drawing a sob from somewhere deep as Regina rocks into her mouth.

She could do this forever, she thinks, before Regina tries to squirm away. Emma extracts her tongue, licking her lips as she raises her head, and grins. _Or not_. “Hi.”

Regina laughs and hooks a hand behind her head, pulling. Emma goes to her willingly, rising up and leaning over her, grin growing at the softness of the expression Regina gazes at her with.

Smiling, Regina draws her into a kiss. It’s soft and brief, but no less sweet than any other. “A few more of those,” she husks, “and I just might have to keep you, Swan.”

Emma smirks. “If you think you’re getting rid of me now,” she counters, “you’ve got another thing coming, Mills.”


	2. Epilogue: the rest of the week.

The third day of their week without their son was the first date and it went exactly as Regina planned. It was, in all honesty, impossible for it not to go as planned. She chose the where and when, what Emma wore; a suit with a certain tie that received the workout of a lifetime afterwards. She also chose what they ate because she was the one who cooked it. Truthfully, it was a lot like their normal dinners, only there was a lot more flirting and a lot less light because Regina  _ really _ liked candles, but not too many candles because  _ If I wanted to start a fire in my dining room, I wouldn’t need candles to do it, Emma _ .

Save the minor interruption halfway through their meal when Snow came banging on the door demanding to know where her daughter was, Emma decided it was the best night of her life.

The sex was especially fantastic.

-

Day four was probably the roughest. Snow returned the next morning after having been shooed away the night before. In hindsight, they likely should have seen it coming but when Snow barged into the den and saw what she saw- well, she only had herself to blame, really.

On the bright side, she would never see it again because Regina demanded the return of the key she’d given her in case of emergencies before kicking her out.

The whole town had at least a vague idea of what happened by lunch time, and not a single one of them was surprised. Except maybe Hook, who’d congratulated Emma for obtaining a spine before he was promptly dumped in the ocean by a strange, purple cloud Emma pretended she didn’t see when he later complained about it.

-

Day five was, and would likely remain, the best  _ day _ of Emma’s life. Maybe second best, as the first time Regina kissed her had been pretty damn special.

They woke early- early enough to warrant the plethora of hickies she gingerly walked into work wearing, utterly shameless. She’d barely been there an hour when she noticed the message on her computer; her unavoidable  _ meeting _ with Regina had been moved up two hours for no apparent reason.

Not that she needed one; Regina  _ wanting _ to see her, early or otherwise, was perfectly valid enough.

When she wandered into the Mayor’s office at 9am, Regina was not sat behind her desk, as had been the case every other time they’d done their song and dance. Instead, she was lounging on her couch with a grin that would have sent the bravest of men running for the hills.

Being no man, Emma stood her ground, in her usual place, awaiting whatever it was Regina had planned for them.

“I think you should move in with me.”

She was not expecting the words, but her agreement was instant.

As was the realization of why the meeting was moved up when she found herself suddenly gathered up by a purple cloud, stripped naked and spread atop Regina’s desk, as Regina stalked over to her, wearing nothing but her heels and that spine tingling grin.

Truly the best day ever.

-

Day six was moving day, and the weekend. It was also, to Emma’s surprise, random declarations of love day. They hadn’t said it. Not once. Not properly. They knew it. They felt it. They understood it, but the words hadn’t made it from their mouths yet, for whatever reason, if one existed at all.

And then she woke up, cradling Regina, head buried in her chest. It took her a few minutes to register everything that was happening at once; the rocking, those lips and the words falling from them, whispered between kisses against her skin. Regina had a list; all the things she loved about her burned into her body by a hot mouth too eager to decide between talking and kissing that it chose to attempt both instead.

Love and lust, and all manner of things Emma was too foggy from sleep to process bubbled up inside of her and spilled over. She had Regina on her back, pinned and moaning her name in no time at all, and when it was over, she’d reciprocated with I love yous murmured into that warm, wonderful mouth- at which point, she realized it wasn’t over, as Regina wanted to reciprocate too.

She probably woke a few people with her scream that morning.

After, they’d had breakfast and gone to her house to pick up her stuff. She didn’t have a lot. Besides her clothes and a few mementos from before her time in Storybrooke, there really wasn’t anything else she wanted to bring with her. She even considered leaving behind the mementos, but then she’d glanced up and seen Regina standing there in the doorway looking at her with a soft, adoring smile and- hell, if sharing a little bit of sentimentality of her former life got her smiles like that, she’d give Regina every single nostalgic second of it.

It didn’t hurt that the smile made her randomly blurt out an i love you and, in return, she was rewarded another orgasm.

It was a good day, almost as good as those two hours they spent having sex in Regina’s office.

-

Henry returns on day seven. They’re in the den looking at brochures when they hear the door, his voice calling out for them both as it closes behind him. Emma can tell by the look on her face that Regina is about to chide him for shouting in the house, so she leans in before Regina can and captures her mouth to distract her.

She ignores the groan of Henry walking in on them, once more distracted herself, before Regina bites her lower lip and forces her back with a hiss. Regina sniffs at her pout and says, “I hope you’ve learned your lesson, Miss Swan.”

Emma cocks a brow. “To never kiss you again? Yeah I-” She pauses to consider it, and shakes her head after barely a second. “Yeah, no. Sorry, no lessons learned here. Keep trying, though, I’m sure I’ll get it eventually.”

Regina rolls her eyes but her grin says it all as she turns her attention to Henry. “Hello son, did you have fun on your trip?”

He nods. “Yeah.” Inching into the room, the table laden with other brochures they haven’t gotten around to looking at, at the moment, catches his eye. He gestures to it and questions, “What’s this?”

“Honeymoon destinations,” Emma supplies.

“Wh- what,” he sputters, his face suddenly falling. Regina clamps a hand down on her thigh and she winces, words gathering on her tongue to reassure him before Regina breaks her leg. He beats her to it. “You got married?!”

Regina instantly lets go, a laugh erupting from her chest as Emma breathes a sigh in relief. She rubs her thigh, eying the batshit love of her life, grin slowly forming because even though she’s absolutely goddamn crazy, Regina’s laugh is bloody music.

Head shaking, she focuses on their son and informs him, “We’re skipping that part.”

He stares back at her, his silence not quite as intense as it might have been without Regina giggling like a loon. He shoots his mother a look, then sighs. “I don’t get it.”

“What’s not to get?” Emma counters. It’s pretty straightforward from where she’s sitting. “We’re madly in love and we want to go on vacation together.”

“After a week?” She shares a look with Regina. They figured this might happen, though they’d expected it from anyone but him. He huffs when neither of them speak and asks, “Have you even been on a date yet?”

Turning back to him, Emma tilts her head, curious. “Four of them,” she replies.

“What?!”

“Inside voice, Henry.”

“Inside...” He groans and Emma tries not to laugh at the expression of disbelief he gives Regina.

“Oh my god.”

“We went out every night you were gone,” she explains, taking pity on him. “Well, except the first night- your mom didn’t text me until the next morning… and the second night we were-” She immediately stops talking, eyes snapping to him as his own widen in horror. Whoops. “Uh...”

“Oh my god,” he repeats, much to Regina’s apparent delight.

She laughs softly and gazes fondly at Emma. “And you call me hopeless.”

“He’s the first person you’ve let me tell.” She pouts. “I got excited, alright?”

“Not alright,” he disagrees, interrupting Regina’s response. “I’m going to be traumatized for life.”

Emma smirks. “Considering I moved in yesterday, that’s probably going to be more true than you know.”

“A week!”

She sighs. His disbelief and mild outrage was amusing at first, but now it’s making her wonder if he understands like they thought he would. He’s the Truest Believer and likely the strongest advocate of True Love there is. Sure, he might only be fourteen, but his age has hardly stopped him in the past. “Henry.”

“Sorry,” he offers sheepishly. “It’s just… a lot to process.”

“It is,” she concedes.

Moving to the chair off to the side of them, he drops onto the cushion, puffing out a breath as he glances over at them, his expression thoughtful. “Just,” he starts to say, face contorting with a grimace. “Just please tell me there’s not more.”

Emma pretends not to understand and squints at him, “What, like a baby?”

“Emma,” Regina growls at the look of horror overcoming his expression.

She laughs. “There’s no baby,” she assures, continuing as the horror begins to dissipate. “I was just going to say that, for me, it’s been a lot longer than a week; I have been in love with your mother for years.”

“As have I,” Regina replies, smiling that beautiful smile Emma is quickly realizing she  _ will _ , in future, do almost anything to cause.

“But you only...” He trails off and glances between them, at a loss.

Emma takes pity on him yet again. “We’ve already wasted all this time,” she reasons. “Why waste any more? It’s not like we could get to know each other any better than we already do.”

“That…” He frowns. “Makes sense?”

“I do that from time to time,” Emma drawls wryly, eyes rolling when he smirks.

“Can I come?”

Before she can voice the  _ hell no _ on the tip of her tongue, Regina pipes up. “Definitely not,” she says. “You’ll be staying with your grandparents.”

“Oh.” Trying to hide his grin, Henry pouts and folds his arms across his chest. “I see how it is; abandon me to go off frolicking with your  _ girlfriend _ .”

Emma snorts when Regina deadpans, “I’m  _ so _ glad you understand.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.


End file.
